


Overcome

by UnalcoholicVodka



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Ambiguity, Ficlet, M/M, Pyrrhus (Mentioned), Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:14:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28407576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnalcoholicVodka/pseuds/UnalcoholicVodka
Summary: Achilles climbs onto the tallest mast of his ships, and Patroclus follows.
Relationships: Achilles/Patroclus (Song of Achilles)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 51





	Overcome

Weeks after Hector's death, Achilles is not dead despite his efforts: No armor, practically baring his throat for his enemies. I am memory and air. I am powerless to help.

Weeks after Hector's death, Achilles climbs onto the tallest mast of the Myrmidons' ships. His face is flushed with drink or madness, or both. I cling to him tighter than he holds on to the wood, although I know he cannot feel me, nor I him.

_ Achilles. You told me once your reputation is your life. Do not throw them away now, I beg of you. I will wait a hundred years for you. I will meet you among the shades. _

I am memories and air, less powerful still than I was when I spoke into Achilles' dream, but I would die again to save him from his dishonorable death. A coward's death.

Achilles freezes. Then, he steps back from the edge of the platform. I peer over the edge, and see what has made him retreat.

_ Thetis. _ For the first time, I give a sigh of relief at the sight of her. She stares over the water from her perch on a jutting stone, but the moment our gazes meet, she dives back into the ocean. The relief drains from my soul as quickly as water from a cracked urn. I remember I can have no faith in her love for him as his mother.

She is a goddess first, and a cold one. I remember how she spoke of Pyrrhus, the son she preferred to Achilles:  _ At twelve, Pyrrhus is more of a man than you. _

And of Achilles himself:  _ This is not my son. _

But Achilles honored his mother despite their differences, and the fleeting sight of she who made him great sends him scrambling down the ropes of the ship, which sway from his weight and the increasing gale whipping around.

Achilles staggers, as if struck by an arrow, but there is nothing but the wind lashing at the sails of our ships. He reaches urgently for the mast, but the wind is as strong as a god's blow, and his fingertips just barely brush the weathered wood of the mast. His cry-of shock-and mine-of horror-mingle. He falls.

His body curves as it plummets, strikes the surface of the water. I almost follow Achilles down, but I have already stretched the thing that ties me to the place where I died, and the sea has no love for me.

Far, far below, I catch a glimpse of black hair and bone-white hands as the waves seem to rise to meet Achilles' body.

I must have imagined it, because Thetis spares no such mercy for Pyrrhus.

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet was inspired by the song "Achilles Come Down" (Gang of Youths). Please tell me what you think; comments are highly appreciated.


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